#might expand later

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: forced relationship, murder of spouse

gn reader

Just thinking about how it would be the most yandere Gojo-thing to do to fight for your hand – knowing no one can beat him – even though you don’t even want him in return.

You’re happy with your man, but along comes Gojo, inviting the poor guy to fight for the right to have you. 

At first, you tell Gojo to fuck off – obviously – but the more imposing and threatening Gojo becomes, the more you understand that he’s serious – that he’ll kill the guy.

And your man is all ready to die for you – so you’re stuck between begging Gojo to have mercy and begging your boyfriend to let you go – that you’d rather he live than lose him.

And Gojo’s just so petty and jealous and grossed out by the lovey-dovey scene that he ends up killing the guy anyway. 

Claiming his win.

[elycwinters]

But You Can Never Leave

Words: 801 Warnings: None Tagging: @flashfictionfridayofficial

It should not be raining.

The already dark road was made darker still with the storm clouds above it, the rain fell hard; windshields useless against it. No one would ever believe that it was summer, much less that the highway was in a desert stretch Mojave.

Marlene squinted, the car's lights doing nothing beyond letting her see how dark outside it was. It was like the night was swallowing the light. She suppressed a shiver.

Only her mother would all but command she attend the annual family reunion. She should grow a spine one of these days, but she did not, in the end, she always caved to her mother's wobbly voice.

Suddenly, there was a light, it was dim, but it was there.

As she drew nearer, she could see that it was a one story hotel. The she snorted when she noticed the only lights that worked were the H, E and the L. But the windows emitted a soft, welcoming glow.

She debated with herself if she should stop or carry on. She bit her lip deep in thought, she looked above and the sky was even darker. The rain would not be stopping anytime soon. Fuck it, she would wait the storm inside.

She drove into the parking lot, once the car was safely stopped, she reached for her purse and her carry on. She opened the door and rushed towards the hotel's door, the rain felt like ice.

She pushed herself inside, and the relief was immediate. The hotel was warm, perhaps a touch too much. But then again, maybe it was the cold rain messing with her perception. She walked towards the reception desk and rang the old school bell. While she waited, she looked around, the hotel seemed not from this era, intemporeal, came to mind immediately.

Her musings were interrupted when a very handsome man walked in, a welcoming smile in his face. "Well, hello miss. May I presume you are in need of a room?"

She smiled in return, "I do. The rain is terrible."

The man went behind the desk, pulled a key and nodded. "It came out of nowhere, but do not trouble yourself. We have good rooms, food and drink. Now, may I have your name miss?"

"Marlene Jones," she watched as the man wrote her name in the book, then he looked up and motioned for her to follow him.

"I am Balthazar, nocturnal manager. We are about to serve dinner, there are a couple of guests here and they wanted to eat together, I am sure they would welcome you."

"That would be very kind of them," she said as she felt the first pang of hunger. Funny, she had had a sandwich not so long ago. "I am starting to feel hunger."

"I would imagine so! My mother used to say that storms brought hunger upon us all."

She did not reply as they had reached their destination. Balthazar opened the door and motioned for her while offering the key, "Your room miss Jones."

The room looked comfortable, if not very modern. "Thank you," she placed the bag near the bed, her purse on the nightstand. "I am ready, please lead to dinner."

For a moment, Balthazar's eyes sparkled. "Very well miss."

She followed until they reached the dining area. The room was full of people and she blinked surprised. She had not seen any cars outside.

Balthazar made a noise and as one, the guests turned to look at him. "This is miss Marlene Jones, our newest guest. She will be join for dinner."

A chorus of welcomes reached her ears, but not very well. The sound almost seemed to come from far away. She approached a table and took an offered chair, a moment later, Balthazar came in with a glass of some sort of bubbly. She thanked him and took a long sip.

The talk was loud around the table, names were exchanged and soon enough, the aromas of food came closer. She shook her head, for some reason she was getting sleepy.

It would not be nice to fall head first into dinner.

A plate of meat and sides was placed in front of her, she took a bite, then another and another and soon enough, she was near asleep. The sound was getting louder, the voices rowdier, and her lids felt so heavy…

~~

The next morning, a woman watching the news as she readied herself for work heard the newest disappearance. One Marlene Jones from San Diego; her car had been found off the highway, empty with no sign of her at all.

The anchor announced it happened in the anniversary of Kenneth McKenzie's disappearance three years earlier in the exact same spot.

There was no sign of a struggle.

[eldewinddolly]

🩵 Don’t let your spirit die, this is just a conflict of the mind 🩵

✨ !!! HYPERFIXATIONS COLLIDE !!!✨

I’m weeks late but the minute I heard my absolute beloved Aurora’s latest song ‘Conflict of the Mind’ I knew what I had to do. It’s a song that deeply moves me, I relate to it a lot but it also feels so much like something Artemis or Angeline would feel but never say out loud.

It was my first time drawing with an actual reference image (from the music video which you must absolutely check out if you haven’t seen it already), it was pretty fun and I do like the end result, even though shadows still prove to be my ultimate nemesis.

[minyards-pipedream]

Venom!Au where Neil is a symbiote and Andrew is his host.

[alyakihaku]

Kept Walking - Furiosa/Praetorian Jack

She wonders if she would have kept walking if she knew then what going with him would become. He had said 'no questions asked' and while she had lowered the gun, she hadn't believed him. At that point in her life, promises or words of assurances didn't hold any weight; or at least the ones made or said after Ma didn't. Dementus, in the cacophony that was his very being, never seemed to not talk. To not make promises he didn't know how to keep and say assurances he didn't know the meaning of. It was his actions you had to believe in, and those never left her feeling at ease. Even the History Man with his own version of abundance didn't offer much stability in character. The last time she took a chance, as calculated as she could make it, had been answering Immortan Joe honestly. As she watched Dementus walk away she heard someone's voice, a voice her soul told her she should know, say in the back of her head 'better the devil you know than the devil you don't'. It wasn't until she walked into The Vault did she really understand what the voice was saying. Dementus had been her tormentor but at least she had known him; known his chaos and how to weather it. Now she had a new Devil to learn.

It didn't take her long to realize that Immortan Joe's control over Rictus only went so far, and while he had initially reminded her of Smeg with his child-like mind that's where the similarities started and stopped. Smeg, despite being Dementus' favorite pet, had never made Furiosa fearful. Rictus, on the other hand, had made the hair on the nape of her neck stand on end every time she saw him. And he saw her. At first, she had wondered if it was fascination with seeing a girl as young as her for the first time. At seeing someone embody the dolls he seemed so fond of. It wasn't until Kindred gave birth that Furiosa decided his attention laid firmly past just fascination with a new toy. She had been right of course, and during that first night of hiding she had allowed herself the satisfaction of it. The vindication of knowing that her gut had been right, her instincts hadn't lied, and she had managed to once again keep herself alive and whole.

She found it surprising how easy it was to keep her head down. Being in The Vault hadn't allowed her much freedom to learn how The Citadel worked, but it was simplistic in its efficiency and cruelty. So many of them were sick and dying that a scrawny mute didn't pique anyone's interest past her ability to do the job. She had already spent years in silence beside Dementus, she could easily spend more by herself. Being a Full Life afforded her more opportunities for advancement, whether she wanted to or not, and soon she found herself being assigned to The War Rig. She had been working on the main fleet for some time now, repairing the diesels that made it back from The Fury Road and salvaging the ones that didn't. It wasn't until Scrotus and Rictus showed up in the War Bay talking about building something Historic did Furiosa feel something she hadn't felt in years. Hope.

Of course, the Wasteland couldn't allow such a thing. The Octoboss attacked, Furiosa lost her transport, and The Praetorian Jack shoved her out of The War Rig. She had just resigned herself to once again figure out a way to survive when she heard his voice. He had said 'no questions asked' and while she had lowered the gun, she didn't believe him. She didn't believe him when he bribed the Organic Mechanic to declare her barren. She didn't believe him when he told Immortan Joe that The War Rig would be lost without her. She didn't believe him when he got her better and more rations. She didn't believe him when he moved her modest amount of things to the bed roll next to his. She didn't believe him when he carefully pulled her boot off to look at the ankle she had sprained when she hit the road. She didn't believe him when he got between her and Praetorian Flux before the knife could touch skin. She didn't believe him when he taught her where all the weapons were hidden in the cab. She didn't believe him. She didn't believe him. She didn't believe him.

She didn't believe him until she did.

'He looks so tired'. The thought had initially startled her before she realized how true it was. The run had been hard; the hardest they'd had in months. They hadn't lost the entire crew, but Furiosa had learned early on that any loss was too many for Jack. Their second engine had given up the ghost 30 miles from The Citadel, leaving them at a speed nearly perfect for the Buzzards to target her and Jack specifically. She had quickly lost track of how many times she'd kept him from serious injury, or him her, but she did keep track of what did make it through their defenses. The two of them had an unspoken agreement of dislike for the Organic Mechanic, so she knew they wouldn't be seeing him, but she also knew that neither of them could remain unattended. With her mind made up before realizing it, she had a firm grip on Jack's arm and was leading him up into The Citadel. Jack, nearly asleep on his feet, didn't protest as he followed behind her as fast as he could. He had said 'no questions asked' and sometimes he managed to surprise her with his commitment to that. His commitment remained even when he shimmied through the too-small crevice and ducked under the wedged boulder to stand before her oasis.

"So, this is where you disappear to", he had stated once his shock wore off.

"Sometimes", she'd told him, moving about the limited space to pull out the few medical supplies she managed to stow away.

Jack had shuffled closer to the pool, his eyes on the water running down the rockface from above, trying to track the origin of the precious commodity. "Crack in an aquifer pipe."

"Most likely."

"I can't-" he had stopped himself with a short scoff. "No, I can believe that you found this place. Of course you did. I just don't…"

Furiosa had taken her usual spot beside the water, situated the supplies before working on pulling her boots off. She knew that he wanted to ask her how she found it. Ask her what circumstances had led her to even go the route they had taken to get there. She knew he wanted to ask but she also knew that he wouldn't. "I wandered a lot when I was smaller. Before I was a Dogman. Before I was anything. I found a lot of hiding places, but this is the only one like it."

"I always thought you were blackmailing Organic out of his aqua cola rations," he had teased as he joined her at the water's edge, still following her lead as he worked his own boots off. "Vanishing and reappearing looking like you'd never seen sand before. Mind-boggling."

She had allowed a small smile. "No. I blackmail him out of his soap," she corrected, gesturing to the off-white block next to her needle and thread.

Jack had blinked before a genuine laugh escaped him, the sound surprising both of them.

She wonders if she would have kept walking if she knew then what going with him would become. He had said 'no questions asked' and while she had lowered the gun, she hadn't believed him. She hadn't believed him until she did and then kept believing him and believing him and believing him. Believing him as he handed her a shotgun and told her that she was done. Believing him as Dementus looked her in the eye and didn't recognize her. Believing him as he pulled a knife from her shoulder. Believing him as he stitched the wound closed. Believing him as he-

"This place at the end of your map of secrets. Where is it?"

Her eyes had watered as she pulled her arm from his always gentle grasp.

He hadn't looked surprised by her response, giving a small nod as he let his eyes drift past her. He was quiet for a moment longer before: "My mother and father were soldiers. Even as the world fell, they yearned to be warriors for a virtuous cause. For them, it never happened."

Furiosa felt herself settle as they locked eyes again.

"I wanna help you find this place. Wherever it may be."

Believing him as he believed her. Not once had she stopped to consider whether he believed her or not. Not once had she stopped to consider his motives when he knew next to nothing about her or her map of secrets. Not once had she stopped to consider how much him believing her had mattered. For both of them.

She found it shockingly easy to remove the pit from its hiding place. To show him the small sliver of physical proof of her Green Place. To offer up the only thing she had managed to truly keep safe.

"Come with me."

The fingers she had expected to take cradled instead in the same way Ma's had, and in that moment, she couldn't remember why she hadn't asked him before. Of course, Jack belonged in the Green Place. With that realization she allowed herself further indulgence in secret telling. In a move she thought for sure would startle him, she grasped the back of his neck and brought him forward, Praetorian grease meeting as she pressed their foreheads together. A small thrill ran through her when he offered no resistance to the touch, falling into it like he had been waiting for the invitation. An always gentle hand rose to mirror hers and the breath she had been holding let loose when she felt his fingers thread through her hair.

She wonders if she would have kept walking if she knew then what going with him would become.

[junewashere]

been thinking about Jesse gaining remnants of the admins powers. It probably wouldn’t make sense in the story but i was thinking about jesse kinda just absorbing it. I honestly think it’d be cool to see them looking a bit animal like. i can imagine them with a stupid little curly tail and little tusks. i can also see them with the ability to float but only like two inches off the ground and they always fall flat on their face somehow

[julei-zu]

[52] What is their philosophy of life?

Stone-Will

He views life as something to enjoy, something given to us for peace. Unfortunately, there are other people who wish to disrupt it for their own greed, power, etc. This is the reason he became a guard, he wanted to protect people, be a peacekeeper for them.

Julei-Zu

She views life as a challenge (that she will gladly take on), it is like yin and yang. Both sides tug, but there will always be a balance. Since there's so much to life, she's dedicated in exploring it, studying it. Its history, it's magic, its people.

[yeaigowillingly]

[WELCOME TO THE RED DIMENSION]

[imagine-shenanigans]

thinking about you going up to three broad shouldered men in a bar because your crazy ex/some random creep/etc is following you and you beg them to pretend they know you. You slide into the empty space at the table theyve commandeered and right as the other guy comes up a scary looking big motherfucker with a balaclava and eyeblack slots himself right in next to you. You press yourself into his side when the creep comes up and you call Ghost your boyfriend, and Ghost (as you later learn to call him) grabs your hip possessively, tucking you in closer.

He doesn't let you go, later, when the creep fucks off. Instead, he slips your phone out of your pocket and puts his contact inside. Texts himself and slips it back into your pocket while making eye contact. Blows smoke in your face and snorts when you wave it away, huffing at him and sticking your cute little tongue out at him.

You have fun with the military men that night, Ghost even walks you home to feel safe. You wake up the next day, happy to be safe and sound, and go about your day. Forget all about Ghost for awhile, because he never texts you first.

Weeks later, youre in the middle of your kitchen when he walks in, a copy of your key in his hand. Slots himself in behind you and rests his chin on your head even when you panic and claw at him.

What? He's home now, came home to you, his partner. Just like you wanted, right? You wanted him, now you've got him.

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

[baazsreverie]

late nights w/ sebastian when you cant sleep, so he wraps his arms around you, snuggly settling his tail against your back to push your closer to his chest.

"what're you so bugged about? it’s been almost an hour. you can relax around me, you know?”

he’s chuckling like it’s some sort of joke to him, but his heart's practically pounding in his chest, resonating with your own. your cheek smushes above his heart, shutting your eyes once your body lulls down, thanks to the rhythm of his heart; and enjoying the feeling of sebastian against you, no matter how cold he may be. your heat passes onto him anyway.

“... like that.” his voice is so soft, you wouldn’t even be able to hear it if you weren’t up against him right now. “just stay close.”

“please.”

[tizeline]

So I've already established that AU Leo has a tendency to abuse his portaling abilities to just go and explore a bunch of places, including New York, which leads to him stumbling across Run Of The Mill several years before he does in canon. And of course he loves the place, the food's great, the Maze of Death is good for training and he gets to hang out with Hueso! Hueso does not enjoy Leo constantly showing up to bother him when he's trying to work, but it's not like he can just kick him out. This is one of THE Baron Draxum's sons, Hueso is already in trouble with yokai law-enforcement and the last thing he needs is more enemies. (And no, he does not have a soft spot for Leo, what are you talking about)

Anway that's all fine and dandy, until two particular individuals happen to stumble across the restaurant....

Similar to in the show, some time after Donnie's first encounter with the Draxum family, him and April find Hueso's restaurant as well and starts to frequent the place. And considering Leo's a regular, well, it's not long until they happen to visit at the same time and uh-

This happens pretty soon after Donnie first reunites with his brothers, but they've encounteredeach other a couple of times in between then and now, which means that the Drax Trio have had time to come to terms with the fact that Donnie is not planning on joining their team any time soon. And while they want to change that, they realize that for the time being he is currently an enemy. Mikey and Raph are still pretty hesitant to fight him, but Leo and Donnie pretty early on established a "fight each other on sight" dynamic, because of course they did.

All of this is to say, as soon as they lay eyes on each other in the restaurant, they immidietly start duking it out! Hueso understandibly does not appreciate such a ruckus in his fine establishment, so out of respect for Hueso the twins agree to avoid any fighting in the restaurant specifically.

Now, you would think that at least one of them would have the common sense to just avoid the place, but they're both stubborn and petty AF and so Leo and Donnie keep running into each other there! And they do respect the no-fight-rule.... to a certain extent. The rule was specifically for physical fights and says nothing about verbal ones! So every time Leo and Donnie run into each other they keep insulting each other to provoke the other into attacking them, which would lead to that twin getting kicked out and hopefully banned for life!

[cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu]

Need a story where Arthur is a ghost who follows Merlin around all day and only in dreams can he communicate and touch Merlin. But to Merlin, he thinks it's not real that he's imagining the Arthur in his mind because no way would Arthur, his golden King would ever call him precious or beautiful, it's just wishful thinking on his part.

So Merlin lives a long life without knowing Arthur is there with him, this time it's Arthur's turn to watch and protect Merlin from the shadows as the warlock once did when Arthur was alive.

Arthur could've stayed in Avalon til he was needed yet the urge to return to Merlin is powerful, although he entrusted the care of Camelot into the hands of Guinevere and Leon he could not do the same of Merlin, and only upon his death did he finally realise why.

He was in love with his best friend. Always had been.

And so it is with great stubbornness and a helpful hand from Freya, whom he just found out was Merlin's first love, he frees himself from Avalon and returns as a spirit that guards Merlin's dreams from nightmares and fights off evil creatures that want Merlin's magic or wish to claim Merlin for themselves...and if some of those creatures happen to be humans who wanted to court Merlin well, he's not going to make it easy on them, on his knight's honour he will protect Merlin's virtue!

[respectfullytrash]

[landwriter]

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

[rapturebin]

obligatory vampire thing

+ having fun with 1830s-ish silhouettes. not made for authenticity's sake im just playing around...